Scraps of paper, splinters of glass
by Anna Scathach
Summary: A collection of HP drabbles and ficlets. Various pairings, including SS/HG, LM/GW, HG/RL. Latest chapter: Ron is bringing Pansy for her first Weasley Christmas, horrible jumper included.
1. Perfection

**Title**: Perfection  
**Author**: Anna Scathach / lyre_flowers  
**Rating**: T  
**Word Count**: 3 x 100  
**Summary:** Severus and Hermione are looking for the perfect present. SSHG drabble series for Lynnylou and the HPCon_Envy community on Livejournal.

* * *

**Perfection**

* * *

"No, this isn't it," she murmured. "Can't offer him potions ingredients. Even if the unicorn hair would be quite useful for that new potion he is developing."

Sighing, Hermione Snape rummaged through her purse.

"I know I had a list for this. There has to be something that he wants. Something, anything really."

"Excuse me, Madam Snape," the shop owner approached her. "May I ask what it is you're looking for?"

"I have no idea," she grumbled. "I love him dearly, my Severus, I do, but honestly, why must things always be complicated for us?"

* * *

"And now," Severus Snape moaned, "she'll be expecting a gift."

A gift. Why hadn't he realised it sooner?

What did she want? Flowers, too easy. Books, done a million times. Jewellery – well, it wasn't that she didn't like jewellery, only she wore such gifts once or twice and then buried them safely beneath her work clothes.

"Oh please," he snorted. "I'm not Ronald Weasley who offers her chocolate and calendars for her birthday, for Cernunnos' sake."

"Why must she be so bloody difficult?" he sighed. "Although I wouldn't love her as much if things were different."

* * *

The quest for perfection never was easy and the course of true love never did run smooth. The Snapes knew this well.

Their courtship had been a rocky one. People had stared and whispered and pointed fingers. They hadn't cared.

At first they had agreed not to marry purely out of spite, out of disdain for old-fashioned Wizarding customs.

When Severus and Hermione had married, it had been a private ceremony. The bride wore blue robes, the husband his customary black.

On their ten year anniversary, all they gave each other was a simple kiss. To them, it was perfection.

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A/N: Liked it? Thoughts? Please review!


	2. Ivory coloured silk

**Title**: Ivory-coloured silk  
**Author**: Anna Scathach / lyre_flowers  
**Rating**: M  
**Word Count**: 3 x 100  
**Summary:** She is determined to have him, and tonight there's a masquerade ball at Malfoy Manor. SSHG drabble series for Aleysiasnape and the HPCon_Envy community on Livejournal.

* * *

**Ivory-coloured silk**

* * *

Hermione is clad in midnight blue robes, her hair piled high atop her head. Her shoes are impossibly high and her underwear incredibly sheer, made of the finest ivory-coloured silk. She likes its softness on her skin, likes feeling sexy, irresistible even.

Her make-up is a work of art, setting off her eyes and mouth without making her look like an old Hogwarts painting. In the candlelight, her soft, fair skin shimmers and smells of flower gardens in summer and of hidden promises, roses, sandalwood and blood-red oranges.

Hermione twirls a little. Everything is perfectly calculated.

Tonight she wants him.

* * *

Recently restored, Malfoy Manor is in no way reminiscent of the sight she remembers from the war. From the relieved way Draco smiles at people, she gathers he knows he has done a great job.

Hermione enters the ballroom without hesitation. Her peacock mask is spelled to stay on until midnight; she knows he won't recognise her.

Then she sees him. Severus Snape, dressed in red robes. He is Poe's Red Death, and it suits him.

Hermione takes two drinks from the buffet and gathers her courage, walking towards him with a smile on her face.

Tonight she'll kiss him.

* * *

She is in his arms now.

Severus is expertly leading her across the dancefloor, twirling her elegantly among other masked couples dancing. Hermione didn't know he danced so well.

Being in his arms feels amazing; blood is pounding in her ears. She thinks of her silk underwear and almost blushes. Smirking, Severus looks down on her. Has she voiced those thoughts out loud?

It is almost midnight when he leads her out of the crowded ballroom.

In the gardens, he takes her in his arms. His fingers are grazing her silk-clad breasts when he kisses her.

Tonight she'll love him.

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A/N: Liked it? Thoughts? Please review!


	3. Smooth, hot and dangerous

**Title**: Smooth, hot and dangerous  
**Author**: Anna Scathach / lyre_flowers  
**Rating**: M  
**Word Count**: 250  
**Summary:** "Good morning, sunshine!" LMGW drabble for Citrinestone and the HPCon_Envy community on Livejournal.  
**Warnings:** Implied BDSM.

* * *

**Smooth, hot and dangerous**

* * *

When Ginny Weasley opened her eyes, all she saw was darkness.

"Good morning, sunshine," a deep voice drawled.

Suddenly, wand light illuminated the dark room, the luxurious bed they lay on, handcuffs, candles, a riding crop, a leather corset atop discarded clothing on the floor.

Ginny flinched, seeing last night's remnants displayed so crudely.

"Now, darling," her lover murmured. "Afraid of your own courage, are you?"

She shivered. His voice washed over her like molten lava, smooth, hot and dangerous.

"You like it when I talk to you like this, don't you?" Lucius smirked.

Merlin, how she did. She could feel her nipples harden under his watchful gaze, feel her desire for him powerfully flare to life inside her stomach.

"Yes, yes," she moaned.

How could it be that this man, whom she knew to be evil, at whose hands she had suffered – that this cruel man could affect her so? It was the fifth time Ginny had met him at the Leaky Cauldron, quite by accident, wearing the corset and her most daring smile. It had also been the fifth consecutive week they had met there and spent the night at the Manor, together.

His long blond hair was tickling her torso, his fingers on her body, then his tongue. Dangerous, evil, irresistible – she wanted him.

* * *

A/N: Liked it? Thoughts? Please review!


	4. Consumption

**Author: **lyre_flowers on LJ / Anna Scathach on FFN  
**Title:** Consumption  
**Ship(s):** Hermione/Rabastan  
**Rating:** R  
**Warnings/Contains:** Smut.  
**Length:** 5x100 words  
**Summary:** When she bites at your throat, you feign surrender, and let her eager little hands undress you.  
**Disclaimer:** Anything you might recognise is not mine, it all belongs to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. etc. No copyright infringement intended.  
**A/N:** For RZZMG, who asked for Hermione/Rabastan. Hope you like where this has taken me ;)

* * *

**Consumption**

* * *

She shouts and screams and bites.

Her harsh voice bites you like a razor.

"I hate you," she screams, loud in the silence that is the Forest of Dean. "I hate you, you monster."

But then she comes to you willingly. She pushes you onto the ground, fiercely. And fiercely she kisses you. You respond in kind, tearing at her clothing with your hands, ripping it into shreds, pulling at her long hair.

She doesn't yield. She never does. She's always aggressive.

When she bites at your throat, you feign surrender, and let her eager little hands undress you.

* * *

Her hands are around your neck, holding on and squeezing as if your skin is the only thing tying her to the mortal realm.

She looks fiercely powerful, you think, as she writhes above you. She is all movement, all fury, all messy curls and bouncing flesh.

"Like a goddess," you gasp.

Indeed this feels sacred, as if the both of you were re-enacting an arcane pagan ritual. She is the goddess of violent fertility, nurturing and destructive force. And you are the king who surrenders to her for a moment, until you can seize her instant of weakness.

* * *

"Say my name," she demands as she moves insistently.

Flesh meets flesh. Movements coincide. Forces collide. Your bodies are your weapons, sharp and angry like the bloody gashes her fingernails leave on your shoulders, or the sting of her teeth on your hip moments ago.

"Hermione," you moan.

And she moves. It feels like fire, it is all-consuming and always addictive, although you'd be willing to bet she can burn you out. Use you, burn you like a candle to the very end. Until there's nothing left.

You know it is intrinsically wrong, but you can't stop yourself.

* * *

Her movements feel liquid upon your skin. They always have since the day you first laid eyes on each other.

You didn't know who she was, but her gaze was insistent and hard, and you followed her into Side-Along Apparition without a second thought.

That first time, you had sex against a brick wall in a back alley. It was all scratches and panting and frantic need. Her hands dug into your back when she came, and you followed.

Her need is raw and frantic still. Whenever you meet, she will passionately take what is hers and leave you panting.

* * *

It is Hermione Granger you are pressing against the ground, you realise now. Her curls tumbling in her face, she draws you closer. Closer and closer still, until you can do nothing but press into her fire over and over again. She is consuming you whole, swallowing you up in bites and pieces.

"Hermione."

"Say it," she hisses against your skin. "Say it, Rabastan, come for me."

She bites down on the soft stubble at your throat, nipping and tasting. You can feel she is close, and your movements increase into a frenzy.

One single shout.

"Hermione."

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A/N: Liked it? Thoughts? Please review!


	5. Feast of All Souls

**Title**: Feast of All Souls  
**Character Pairing**: Draco/Pansy  
**Prompts**: (Trick) Bat Bogey Hex, (Treat) Firebolt, (Location) Spinner's End  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Word Count**: 5x100  
**Summary**: They have come to this place forsaken by God and sinners alike to remember a lonely man.  
**Author's Notes**: My own twisted take on Livejournal Rarepair_Shorts Trick or Treat 2012, with a seasonal reference, in title and story, to All Soul's Day on 2 November (which is just after All Hallow's Eve on 31 October, so let's squint a little). Hope you like it!

* * *

**Feast of All Souls**

A dark November night. Two figures in the sky, rapidly descending on their broom. They are but shadows in dim light, as shady as night itself.

But there is nobody to see them for this house is empty.

The lone house on Spinner's End has not been lived in since its owner died in battle. It has slowly fallen prey to dust, dew, destruction.

As the two figures dismount the Firebolt, they cautiously look around. There is one man and one woman. Basked in the last rays of fading violet light, they are silent. The woman grabs the man's hand.

* * *

Their names are Draco and Pansy.

Today they have come to repent. Today they have come to beg forgiveness in this place forsaken by God and sinners alike. They have come to remember.

They have come here to remember one Severus Snape, who was a war hero and a martyr and a spy. A man who was never appreciated in life and is ostracised even in death.

Nobody speaks of him. They dragged his dead body away, not a single word spoken or kind thought shared. He was put into the ground to rot like spiders and worms and snakes.

* * *

"Severus Snape was a good man," the woman says.

The man nods. "He did not deserve the _Crucio_s and _Sectumsempra_s and the snakebite. Not even one of those ridiculous Bat Bogey Hexes. Nothing of it."

Their grief has brought them to this place like it brought them to the ground where he had fallen. They met there, on the eve of the battle's one year anniversary, and things have never been the same again.

Draco and Pansy clung to each other like vines, like Devil's Snare, never letting go. First there has been grief, then acceptance, and finally strength.

* * *

Love came later. It hid in corners, in the furtive looks he gave her when he thought she wasn't looking, and the careful way she selected her scarves whenever they met.

Draco smiles at Pansy in remembrance. It has been ten years since that fateful day when two mourning children found solace in each other's arms.

He tugs on her hand, drawing her into his embrace. She is warm and soothing and reassuringly real in this garden filled with spectres of a man long gone.

Then Pansy turns her head upwards and their lips meet in a chaste, collected kiss.

* * *

Severus Snape's soul has not moved on. They can feel it in chills on their skin and goosebumps on their backs.

Strangers buried him like one would an errant dog, by the roadside.

The woman kneels on the damp ground and closes her eyes. Her thoughts are with a man that escaped mortal purgatory only to find it again. For he had been bid to sin, time and time again, and his masters washed their hands of his sins.

Draco joins the kneeling woman. He prays.

Their thoughts and prayers are with a lonely man's soul on this starless night.

* * *

A/N: Liked it? Thoughts? Please review!


	6. That one special night

**Written for the 2012 HP_Halloween fest on Livejournal as a gift for Notearchiver.**

**Author:** lyre_flowers on LJ / Anna Scathach on FFN  
**Title:** That one special night  
**Character:** Severus Snape  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary:** On Halloween, the Death Eaters are walking through the streets of London.  
**Disclaimer:** Anything you might recognise is not mine, it all belongs to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. etc. No copyright infringement intended.  
**Notes:** Dear notearchiver, I hope I did your prompt justice – somehow angst did not want to come to the party, but I hope it turned out to be atmospheric and possibly a little ambiguous. Without further ado, enjoy!

* * *

**That one special night**

* * *

That Halloween night was dark, darker than he remembered October nights being. They always met at this time of year, always, without fail, that one special night ghosts and ghouls and ghastly creatures of any sort were free to run the streets – not only of wizarding villages, no, but of Muggle towns and even London.

Severus pulled his robes closer. Somehow, being evil had seemed easier once when he hadn't been walking down Portobello road for all and sundry to see. He glanced at the others. Behind their masks, he knew they wore proud smiles and glittering eyes. They could celebrate out in the open, albeit among giggling schoolchildren and scantily-clad housewives. Once in a while, one of his companions would flick his wand and a child would break his nose, a skirt would blow up, a fight would start. Some of them disappeared into dark corners with strangers.

Severus smirked.

Church bells chimed, as if trying to break through the grey haze that had settled on the street. They would not succeed, not tonight. Tonight, black robes and masks blended in with monsters and mermaids and myriads of shady onlookers.

His robes a whisper behind him, Severus walked.

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A/N: Liked it? Thoughts? Please review!


	7. Christmas Morning Rituals

**Written for the 2012 Mini_fest at Livejournal.  
**

**Title:** Christmas Morning Rituals  
**Author/Artist:** lyre_flowers on LJ / Anna Scathach on FFN  
**Pairing(s):** Ron Weasley/Pansy Parkinson  
**Prompt**: 2011 #169 - Ron's taking Pansy for her first Weasley Christmas, but first, he has to get her into the jumper :)  
**Word Count/Art Medium:** ~560 words  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.  
**Notes:** Thanks to my lovely beta, and happy holidays to you all!  
**Summary:** Christmas is celebrated very differently throughout the wizarding world. For Pansy Parkinson, Weasley family traditions will bring a surprise and a promise. Ron will make sure of it.

* * *

**Christmas Morning Rituals**

To Ron, Christmas meant new jumpers, the smell of baked goods and spending the entire day in pyjamas with his siblings, even as an adult.

To Pansy, Christmas meant fancy dresses, awkward family gatherings and piles of expensive gifts.

That year, they had decided to stay in on Christmas Eve, preferring the warmth of the fire and the touch of skin on skin to the harried hustle of London's streets. They had kissed, cuddled and laughed.

It hadn't been like Christmas at all, Pansy reflected, more like lazy autumn days in their bed or hot summer days in the park. Bliss.

She stretched, still only half-awake. Like a cat, she curled and uncurled until she had found the correct position on their makeshift bed in front of the fire. Mountains of pillows and Transfigured blankets surrounded her, almost drowning the dark-haired woman in their midst. It was certainly wonderful, Pansy thought, as she settled a bit deeper into the covers.

Sliding underneath a blanket, her arm brushed bare skin.

Soon, a head emerged next to hers. Ron's hair was impossibly tousled and his eyes were filled with a childlike wonder.

"Good morning," she smiled.

"It's Christmas," he replied, smiling back.

"Mmh," she sighed, shifting to curl up by his side.

She felt the warmth of the fire, the heat of his skin and his eyes filled with glee, looking at her.

"It's Christmas," he repeated.

"Yes," she mumbled.

So what? She still wasn't inclined to get up any time soon. It was warm, it was cosy, and she had Ron nearby. Getting up, however, would involve untangling herself from the blankets, walking naked through the comparatively cooler room and dressing. Of course, dressing would involve a black woollen skirt and her Weasley jumper.

Pansy shuddered. She hadn't worn the dreaded thing since Molly Weasley had offered it to her the previous year. Although everyone claimed purple suited her, she didn't particularly like the chubby woollen jumper. But if she did get up, Ron would insist she wear it for Christmas at the Burrow. Maybe she could convince him to stay in front of the fire instead of attending the Weasley family gathering?

Putting her arms around him, she lifted herself up to look at her boyfriend. He looked happy, even happier when she bent down to kiss him, in fact. Lightly pressing her lips to his, Pansy wasn't surprised when Ron deepened the kiss and pulled her closer.

After what felt like several decades of blissful sunshine, they emerged from their kiss, Pansy now lying atop her boyfriend, his arms locking her firmly in place. She smiled at him, and he smiled back.

"Let's go," he suddenly announced.

And with these words, he pushed the blankets off them, turning and taking Pansy with him in the process. She let out a startled squeal when, finally standing, he lifted her up into his arms and proceeded to carry her off into the bedroom.

"I need to get you into this jumper."

Oh no.

"Oh yes, dear, you will wear that purple jumper I know you love so much," he smiled down at her.

Ron pressed a quick kiss onto her lips. "And then," he murmured, "all day you may look forward to this evening, when I will get you out of the jumper in mere seconds."


End file.
